


I'd Make Room for You

by Koren M (CyberMathWitch)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Backstory, Compersion, F/F, F/M, Fantasizing, First Meetings, First Time, Multi, Pregnancy, Sexual Fantasy, Sparring, Voyeurism, vague mentions of passive Red Room related suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:53:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4747157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberMathWitch/pseuds/Koren%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It starts the first time she sees them spar.  It's mesmerizing, it's a punch to the gut, and it's beautiful. Primal. Somehow sexy in a way that goes beyond conventional ideas of what sex is or should be.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>A distant part of her mind thinks she ought to be jealous at the thought of him and another woman.  That it shouldn't be a turn on, even in her fantasies.  The voice tries to tell her that she ought to be worried about losing him, or feel threatened, but she just doesn't.  Clint doesn't look at her any differently than he ever has, all open smiles and adoration in his eyes.  It's just that he's maybe starting to look at Natasha with some of the same expressions.  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>If she had a mirror, she's afraid that she might be, too.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CloudAtlas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudAtlas/gifts).



> For CloudAtlas's prompt _Clint/Natasha/Laura threesome porn with feelings._
> 
> Title from #1 Crush by Garbage

She catches a glimpse of them training through the open front door. It's not a part of their routine she usually watches; most days she's busy riding herd on Cooper in the back yard. But this visit had been ill-timed, with two year old Cooper in the middle of a month-long stay with her parents in Wyoming, and Clint and Natasha returning several weeks earlier from their mission than planned, so it's just the three of them alone in the house and she's abandoned her usual routine.

She never really let herself think too much about what Clint did for work when he was gone. She never dwelled on what it might entail, although she knew it was physical demanding and dangerous, knew that when they were home they kept up a rigorous schedule of training and exercise even though they were "off the clock". It's the first time she's _seen_ them spar. They're on the grass as she steps out onto the porch, and she stops, the words she was going to call out fall from her mouth unsaid. It's mesmerizing, it's a punch to the gut, and it's beautiful. Primal. Somehow sexy as fuck in a way that goes beyond conventional ideas of what sex is or should be. They don't kiss, or grope, or leer - but they're obviously lost in the physicality of their actions with a degree of understanding one another's bodies usually reserved for long time lovers.

She hopes she won't interrupt, but it's quickly evident that neither of them have any attention to spare in her direction. They move with a singular focus and lighting fast, most of their swings and kicks connecting, although from this distance she can't judge how hard. They've never needed any major patching up afterwards, so she assumes they're pulling their punches. 

When she finally pulls herself away and slips back into the house, she's almost painfully aroused, damp and tender and slightly dizzy from it.

They come inside when they're done ten minutes later, sweaty and laughing, with grass stains all over their skin and clothes. Clint slips in behind her and wraps her in a bear hug before turning her around to kiss her - it's what he always does, but she can't help but change what should've been a quick peck into a deeper, more heated tangle, and they pull apart slightly surprised and chagrined when Natasha makes deliberate noise rifling through the silverware draw to remind them of her presence. 

Later that night when Clint makes love to her, completely oblivious to the thoughts swirling in her head, she can't help but picture it differently. She's never seen Natasha naked, but the sports bra and shorts she runs in each morning leave very little to the imagination, and Laura has a very good imagination. She pictures Clint's hands sliding over porcelain skin, fingers threading through red hair instead of dark brown, and comes harder than she has in a long time. 

It becomes a mild obsession. 

Laura starts to notice things, things about how he interacts with Natasha, how Natasha interacts with him. She doesn't doubt his fidelity, not one little bit, but... Well. She knows what it looks like when he relaxes around someone, when he is concerned about them, and occasionally catches a glance that lingers longer than purely platonic friendship might. Neither of them has ever had a problem with looking and they both know it - if he displays any guilt it's more likely the possibility of Natasha catching him than Laura doing so. (She looks too, and they catch each other, exchanging slightly sheepish "do you blame me?" grins in the process.) 

She jumps Clint the next morning on his way to the shower, still covered in sweat and dust and grass. He pushes her up against the bathroom wall and she can't help thinking about they way they moved together. This time she'd watched them from the upstairs window, had seen the whole routine from it's measured beginning through to it's furious end. They'd been using full body throws, but from her vantage point Laura had been able to tell they were as much guiding each other's falls as causing them. The tile is cold against her back and his hands are tight on her hips just like they'd gripped Natasha's earlier. She imagines Natasha with her head thrown back and her neck bared for him to lick and suck a trail down to her breast. His teeth tease at her, and she shudders already near the edge and wondering what it would take to make Natasha come. Clint thrusts inside her and she makes herself open her eyes and look at him, look into him in a way she maybe hasn't done in a long long time. Only this time she's seen yet another side of him, has a more complete picture of the man. The intimacy and a well-timed touch throw her over the edge.

A distant part of her mind - the same one that occasionally questions why it is that she's on a farm in the middle of nowhere married to a spy, rather than in an office in the city or a university lecture hall - thinks she ought to be jealous at the thought of him and another woman. That it shouldn't be a turn on, even in her fantasies. Clint and Natasha are coming back from the barn where he's rigged up a shooting range, and their heads are bent close together, laughing. The voice tries to tell her that she ought to be worried about losing him, or feel threatened, but she just doesn't. She can't explain it, it's just not there. Clint doesn't look at her any differently than he ever has, all open smiles and adoration in his eyes. It's just that he's maybe starting to look at Natasha with some of the same expressions. 

If she had a mirror, she's afraid that she might be, too. 

The attraction is new, but her enjoyment of Natasha's company is anything but. Clint brought her home two years ago after she'd nearly died on a mission, still relatively new to SHIELD and their partnership. Clint had insisted on coming home because she'd just given birth to Cooper a few months before, and Natasha had still been in need of care and attention but apparently hadn't handled being in the medical facility very well. (Later, Laura would learn why she hated the clinical surroundings so much, and couldn't even blame her.) He'd gotten to spend a week with them before SHIELD had needed him for another assignment and he'd (reluctantly) gone, leaving the two of them plenty of time to get to know one another over midnight feedings (on Laura's part) and poor sleep due to injuries (on Natasha's part). Within the year, Laura had designated one of the spare rooms as "Natasha's room", although to her general frustration and annoyance Natasha still insisted on referring to it as a "guest" room. She'd come back home with Clint nearly every time since, happily pitching in on Cooper wrangling duty to give them a little more time together, and to give Laura a break from the constant attention that a toddler required. Piece by piece, moment by moment, she'd watched Natasha relax into their family and their home, and it thrilled her to see it. 

So she feels just a little bit guilty about all of this. Not enough to stop, though.

She lets it continue. "Lets" is perhaps not the right word. But it does continue, the rest of the week. If either of them realize she's been paying closer attention, or if she's given them any hint of the direction her thoughts having taken, they don't mention it. 

Natasha excuses herself after dinner and heads outside for a nighttime run. Laura pours out the rest of the wine into the two remaining glasses and joins Clint on the couch in the living room. Trying to decide on a movie devolves rapidly into kissing and Clint trying his best to strip off her dress. She sinks to her knees at his feet and unzips his jeans, pulling out his cock and starting with the places she knows make him twitch and writhe. Finally, she takes him all the way down, again and again in a steady rhythm. She feels his fingers thread through her hair, until he stops her, pulls her up into his lap and over him. She sinks down onto him and he works the straps off her shoulders until her breasts are free for him to play with, fingertips rubbing rough over the tip of one nipple and his mouth closing over the other, hot and urgent.

When she looks up she sees Natasha in the doorway, watching her, watching them, and she bears down around Clint and comes, _hard_. He gasps against her throat and his hips jerk up as he follows her, but she never takes her eyes off of the other woman's, not until she turns and vanishes back into the darkened kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer she found out she was pregnant with Cooper was the summer everything changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very brief mentions of passive suicidal ideation (in relation to Natasha and Clint's first meeting and the Red Room). Basically standard canon-level Red Room backstory stuff.
> 
> (Also? This is not beta'd, though I've read over it several times for typos and the like. It was a toss-up between posting w/o a formal beta or possibly not posting for weeks because momentum is a thing, and I figured you'd rather I posted. ;) )
> 
> And possible apologies for the odd format. The dialogue vs. tense shifts seemed to work out best this way.

The summer she found out she was pregnant with Cooper was the summer everything changed (although she can only see how much in retrospect). Clint came home from a three week mission more shaken and listless than she'd ever seen him, and she put her announcement on indefinite hold. She rarely asked him about his work, because she knew there were things he probably couldn't tell her, and just like when he was in the army prior to SHIELD, there were things she didn't really want to know. Not because she minded Clint doing some of the things she was pretty sure he did, but because she didn't like to think about the kind of danger she knew came with them.

But after she'd found him outside running in the the middle of the night, when he hadn't been able to look her in the eye over the dinner table, she couldn't _not_ ask.

_He ducks her in the kitchen without even asking why she's awake, he tries to avoid her by taking a shower but she follows him into the bathroom before he can lock the door. While he stands under the scalding hot spray she badgers him with questions, she's met him before and knows how to wear him down._

_It's inelegant, but effective, only this time before she can get the answers she wants the world goes a little watery at the edges. She sits down hard on the floor in front of the toilet as the heat and steam pull a wave of nausea from her and remind her what she'd been meaning to say._

_The sound of her retching makes him draw the curtain back and he crouches next to her on the tile, dripping all over her and the floor. He holds back her hair, and pulls her into his lap when she's done and asks her if she's okay, if it was the food, he checks her for a fever but she pushes his hand away. Laura turns her face into his shoulder and mutters out that she's five weeks pregnant and of course he doesn't hear her because she's talking into him, not at him._

_She repeats herself more clearly and under other circumstances, she might've laughed at the look on his face. It's classically Clint, pole-axed and dumbfounded and then filled with shock and dawning pleasure._

_"When were you gonna tell me?" he blurts out, and her frown returns._

_"When you got your head out of your ass and talked to me?"_

_It's not fair to blame him when he hasn't even been home a full day, but her head is pounding now and she can still taste bile in the back of her throat and really needs to get up and wash her mouth out and go back to bed. Clint's hand is still stroking over her hair and she doesn't want to let go of him ever again._

_"I..." he falters and she looks at him, and all the walls are back in place, just like that. Laura laces their fingers together, lets herself trace the lines of his hands._

_"You've got to talk to me. Whatever's eating you up inside, if you don't tell me, it'll drive us both crazy the entire time you're here, and then you'll leave mad and I'll stay mad and I don't want it to be that way."_

_Clint turns her slightly so she's cradled between his thighs, his arms wrapped more fully around her and her back to his chest. He presses his face into her hair from this angle, he can talk without her being able to see his face. "There was a woman. A mission. I was supposed to kill her, and... I couldn't do it."_

_Her hands still but she isn't all that surprised. She'd already figured out that they asked him to do things like this, but she trusted his judgment and knew he trusted SHIELD. "Like you missed, or-"_

_He barks out a short laugh, a bitter one. "No. You know I never miss." It's teasing but somehow self-deprecating. "I hit her. I just didn't make it fatal. I saw her face through my sights and I changed my mind. On paper, she should be dead. Deserves to be dead, God, she's killed so many people. Agents, innocents,_ kids _."_

_"What did you see?"_

_"What?"_

_"You said you saw her face and you couldn't kill her. She sounds horrible - what did you see that made you change your mind?"_

_He thinks about it for a long time. She goes back to tracing his fingers where he's pressing them against her still-flat stomach, changes her touch so that she's gently massaging the delicate muscles and tendons there. Her stomach is twitching again and she prays it behaves itself, but this time she doesn't think it's the baby._

_"Hope. I saw hope in her eyes when she saw me aiming at her. I think she hoped she would finally get to die."_

Later they'd picked themselves up off the floor, they'd taken another, cooler shower together, and then gone to bed. The next morning, he'd taken her out for pancakes, then they'd gone window shopping for baby furniture even though she'd protested it was too early for that kind of thing. Three weeks later he'd gone back to work, a month after that he'd shown up to go with her to the ultrasound and to decide which room to use for the nursery. In between waiting rooms and paint samples he'd told her the woman's name, and how she was doing, and that she'd decided to join SHIELD. "I think they're gonna make me her partner, until they decide what to do with her," he'd admitted. 

He left for a two week mission and didn't come home for ten. Fury showed up on her doorstep first and when she saw him she lost what lunch she'd managed to eat. He'd helped her back up the porch stairs while he assured her that Clint was alive and mostly okay. They sat on the swing and he told her that his partner had saved his life. Laura revised everything she'd thought about Natasha Romanov prior to that moment, because right then, with the baby kicking at her ribs, that was the only thing that mattered.

She made Fury promise to send Clint home in one piece well before her due date and demanded they not call him until after the baby was born. 

******

He'd talked about Natasha a lot when he came home, and it had piqued her curiosity more than his work normally did.

_"What made you change your mind?" she finally asks one day, while they're trying to paint a border of zoo animals over the chair-rail of the nursery._

_"What?"_

_"On paper, you said she was this... monster, I guess. And I get why you said you couldn't kill her. Was the file wrong? You've just been talking about her a lot and she certainly doesn't sound like she's a bad guy."_

_He gets a complicated look on his face that's unusual for him, like he hasn't ever thought to ask the question._

_"It wasn't wrong," he admits, cautiously. "It was, incomplete, I guess. Natasha... she's from Russia, right? The old Soviet system. You know how they used to talk about having the circus schools, or the ballet schools, or how they'd train their Olympic athletes? They'd get little kids and basically put them up in boarding schools where they pretty much learned to do one thing and do it really, really well?"_

_Laura nods, suddenly sure she doesn't want to hear where this is going but not about to turn away, because she's well aware that she owes this woman everything already, more than she can ever repay. The least she can do is listen._

_"They did something kind of like that, only much, much worse. And they didn't train the girls to be dancers or, I don't know, pole-vaulters, or ice-skaters. They trained them to be assassins. Perfect, deadly spy-assassins. I don't know much about how they did things, but I know it was brutal. Brainwashing, torture, you name it. A lot of them broke. I mean, they were still effective tools, but they weren't really people anymore. She's not the first one we've had to deal with."_

_"But?"_

_"But... she_ survived _it. Somehow. She's messed up, sure, but I she's still whole. And she wanted out, had been trying to get out for years, and I think when she realized that I was about to kill her that day, she hoped it was going to be over. She wasn't suicidal, she just... it was a better alternative than going back. So, yeah. She did the things in the file. She probably did a hell of a lot more than that. We're giving her a chance to make it right, and she wants that."_

_Laura thinks about that while she paints the last few stripes on the back of a cheerful orange tiger cub. She rinses off her brush and looks back at Clint. "Then I'm glad you changed your mind."_

*****

In June, Clint went back to work, and she started on the long, sleepless task of taking care of a newborn alone.

When he called at the beginning of July, she was sleep-deprived enough that he had to repeat what he was saying before it really sank in. 

_"Natasha's not okay. There was a training accident, but Fury doesn't think it was an accident at all. She's got a punctured lung and a broken leg and he thinks -_ we _think someone here tried to kill her. I can't- She's not doing too well in medical, but I-" he's speaking in a panicked rush that she'd only ever heard him use twice before - when she'd been in labor, and the time she'd fallen off of a ladder and ended up with a concussion._

_"Bring her home," Laura blurts out without even having to think about it, and Clint tries to protest but she shuts him down. "She's saved your life, and now she needs a place to hide. So bring her home. It's the safest place there is for her right now."_

_She hears the relief in his voice when he finally agrees._

_They show up in Clint's truck three days later, and Laura gets her first real impression of Natasha. Even with the dark shadows under her eyes and the unnatural pallor of someone who's been injured, there's something about her that's formidable and makes Laura both want to stare at her and feel like she should look away, lest she inadvertently offer some kind of challenge._

_She tells herself that she's being ridiculous, and trails along with Cooper in the sling while Clint gets Natasha settled on the couch in their living room._

_"There's a real bedroom upstairs," Laura explains, "but I wasn't sure if you'd be able to navigate the stairs just yet, so I made up a bed for you down here."_

_"It's fine," Natasha assures her, and thanks her, and Laura's a little surprised not to hear any accent to her voice. She can't really reconcile the things Clint's told her with the woman before her now, and isn't sure she wants to. Growing up in the circus taught them both to avoid making judgments on rumor and appearance, and she_ wants _to give her the benefit of the doubt. She wants to_ like _her, Laura realizes suddenly, because Clint obviously likes her and if the current situation is any indication, people who do are few and far between. And maybe there's still a sense of debt sitting there between them, but it's a comfortable one that Laura both realizes she'll probably never be in a position to repay, but doesn't feel any pressing need to resolve._

_Cooper whimpers slightly as he begins to wake up, and she wonders about how fanciful sleep deprivation apparently makes her feel._

Clint had been called back to base just two days later, leaving the three of them in house together, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what! This is going to be longer than I thought. ::facepalm:: SOMEONE (looks pointedly at her three problem children) decided to go have feels about this whole thing. Lots of them. IDK, I just work here.
> 
> Yes, there will _definitely_ be more smut. I pinky-promise.


End file.
